"Where are we now?" Elizabeth gasped.
Denno looked around, seeming as dazed as she was for a moment. Then he took a deep breath. "Ah, in Avalon. In front of the Academicia." He took another breath. "I didn't know Titania could do that."
Elizabeth gave a slight shiver. "I was afraid for a moment that she could do anything she willed to, anything at all." She reached up and took Denoriel's hand. "What are we supposed to do now?"
"This is where we will find your teacher, the one that Titania has selected for you. There is a door," Denoriel said, a bit uncertainly.
Whenever he had come to the Academicia previously, to consult one of the mages or to study with them, the door in the blank white wall had been open, sometimes with the mage standing in it. He was just about to say that they should both think of the name Tangwystl, when the door did open—as always right in front of him, or, this time, in front of Elizabeth. It occurred to him as the mage stepped out that he was quite a distance from where he usually stood, and the door had found him anyway.
Elizabeth's hand tightened on his own and he returned a reassuring squeeze. Tangwystl was not a sight to raise the spirits of a child who had already been dealt with by Queen Titania. She was darker even than Mwynwen, but without a spark of the other's beauty or warmth. Her hair was black and as straight as if it had been ironed, streaked with gray; her ears barely came to points, but when she wrinkled her nose in distaste at something, one could see that her teeth were as pointed as a cat's. Her eyes were so black that it was impossible to tell whether the pupils were round or long.
Unseleighe, Denoriel thought. Unseleighe, not entirely elven-blooded either, and somehow bound to the Seleighe court, probably by Titania herself. But was it safe to trust a dark Sidhe with Elizabeth's mind?
"I don't believe you can even walk in that stupid dress," Tangwystl spat, "and I certainly can't teach you anything while you wear it."
The mage made a gesture and snapped the fingers of her hand; Elizabeth cried out in distress. Her dress, her beautiful court dress, was gone! When she looked down she was clothed in . . . in boy's clothes—a white shirt, open at the throat with long, full sleeves that were exposed by a sleeveless tunic. The tunic only came down to midthigh over long, footed hose. Elizabeth stared in horror at her shapely but exposed legs. But horror quickly changed to outrage.
"And I won't learn anything from you, even if another bad spell kills me!" Elizabeth shouted. "How dare you make me indecent in boy's clothing! I am a girl! Give me back my dress, I command you!"
Even as she spoke the last sentence, Elizabeth felt a gentle oppression, as if she had been wrapped in a soft, transparent blanket. The mage had gestured at her again, a bare moment after the blanket enclosed her; she felt nothing, but a shower of sparks burst in front of her and the mage gasped and shook her hand as if she had been stung.
Denno's voice was cold and hard. He said, "This is Lady Elizabeth, King Henry's daughter, from the World Above. She is not to be treated as you treat your other students or apprentices. Lady Elizabeth is needful and precious to Queen Titania. She knows only the ways and manners of her mortal realm, and should not be expected to abide by ours."
The dark Sidhe lifted her lip in a sneer. "She must learn attention and respect."
"If you do not deliberately enrage her, you will find her a remarkably attentive student. And abuse will not teach this child respect, only hatred." Denno's voice was just as icy as the mage's. "I must warn you. When she is frightened or angry, she can put out a burst of mortal magic that is very dangerous. It destroyed the Gate of an Unseleighe Sidhe who attacked her and blew him out of the mortal world. Moreover, she is more stubborn than rock. Give her back her dress or we will get no further, and Queen Titania will not be pleased."
Tangwystl snarled, showing all her sharp pointed teeth, but Elizabeth was again clothed in her silver and red, wide-fur-sleeved, court dress.
But the dark one was fully as stubborn as Elizabeth, it seemed. "I will not teach her in that dress," the mage said scornfully. "She must have two spells. One does not matter; that is for inside her mind, but for the other she must gesture, and those sleeves will be in the way."
"But, mage," Denno said, his voice now ingratiating, "in the mortal world, she must wear dresses very like the one she is wearing now all the time. She must learn to gesture properly when her arms are so impeded."
The black mage snorted. "I do not care what she does in the mortal world. The Powers will see through her sleeves and recognize the true gesture. But for teaching, I must be able to see her hands and arms."
Elizabeth was stroking the full fur sleeves, very pleased with Denno at the moment. "If you can take us back to your house in Llachar Lle, Denno, Lady Alana said there would be other clothing for me in the closet in my room. I would be willing to change."
Denno turned to her. "Would you, love? But we do not need to go back to Elfhame Logres."
He ran his left hand, palm down, along her body; following his left, his right hand, palm up, traced the same path. Elizabeth gasped. She was now clothed neatly in a pale green dress of embroidered muslin with a neat white lace collar and tight sleeves. In fact, it looked something like the portraits she had seen of her grandfather's queen and her ladies.
"My dress," she cried.
"Safely in the closet, waiting for you," Denno said, grinning. "You will be much more comfortable in this."
"Very good. Very good," Tangwystl said, with grudging approval. "Those sleeves are even better than the ones I devised. Let us go in."
And they were in, standing in the middle of a smallish but very comfortably furnished room. Tangwystl dropped into a large, cushioned chair with its back to a small window that looked out into nothing but the empty, silvery air. There was a low table, on which the mage rested her hands, with two chairs on the other side, both with low backs and arms but no cushioning. One chair was directly opposite Tangwystl's seat, the other to the side.
Elizabeth bit her lips. Remembering the warmth that had flowed from Titania's hands and the sparkling light that had suffused her body, she suspected that the Queen had transmitted whatever spell she used through their linked hands. Elizabeth did not want to take the mage's hands. The fingers were gnarled and twisted and had bulbous, claw-tipped nails, the skin dark and dry, like old ill-treated leather.
Elizabeth repressed a shiver; would the skin of those hands flake off and cling to her own sweat-wet palms? But then she thought of the horror eating her mind, of the somehow evil-looking Denno urging her to be safe forever from all her fears by climbing the tower and leaping off. She paused for a moment, recalling the growing sense of threat that had loomed over her if she did not do away with herself.
And lastly, she realized, for the first time, that if she had destroyed herself, she would not only have lost her life, but any chance of Heaven, for suicides lost any chance of God's grace. It could happen again. This time she might not be strong enough, or Denno would not come to her in time. She would die in the blackest of sin, and there would be no hope for her. She drew a deep, steadying breath. She would hold those hands if necessary.
"What is the center of your being?" Tangwystl asked suddenly.
Almost, Elizabeth answered, "My soul—" but she was not sure that these fae creatures understood such a thing even existed. "M-my h-heart," Elizabeth said, eyes wide. She would not speak of the horrors through which she had lived.
"A lumpy, red thing of flesh. Yes. But that is not what I mean . . . or, wait, maybe that will do." Tangwystl narrowed her eyes. "Inside yourself, wrap up your heart in a white cloth."
The words made no sense. "What? How can I do such a thing?"
"Stupid child! Have you no imagination? Does everything need to be done by your hands? Do you never make pictures in your head? See your lump of red flesh wrapped in a white cloth. Or, if you prefer, encase it in a shell of armor."
Elizabeth considered, eyes even wider. "No. No. If I wrap up my heart or encase it in metal, I will not be able to see or hear or feel anything."
"Do not be ridiculous," Tangwystl said impatiently.
Denoriel had at first been so relieved that Tangwystl herself did not intend to invade Elizabeth's mind and make changes in it that he had relaxed and prepared to attend closely in case he might learn something himself. He had his own mental shields—inborn and instinctive; rising of themselves against any invasion. He had never seen the need for more, but now he was interested in anything to do with magic. Thus, watching for Elizabeth's reaction, he saw the little quiver that showed the child's jaw had set hard.
Elizabeth with her jaw set was near immovable. "No, wait," he said. "It is not at all ridiculous. If that is the way Elizabeth feels about it; that may be the way it will be. To learn, Elizabeth must be convinced of the rightness, of the strong probability, that what she wills will be so."
Tangwystl pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. "She is not yet nine years old. Why can she not simply believe me?"
Without answering Tangwystl, Denoriel said, "Elizabeth, do you remember the large clear window in my house? You know nothing can come in through that window, yet you can see and hear through it. Imagine a piece of glass, but soft so you can bend it into any shape—it can be done, love; when glass is heated it gets soft. Magic can make it soft without heat. Think of using a piece of softened glass to enclose your heart."
Tangwystl's lips tightened with irritation, but she accepted Elizabeth's nod of acquiescence and began to explain what the child must will to make the shield around her thoughts and feelings impermeable. Denoriel could neither see nor feel magic as Elizabeth followed the mage's instructions, but Elizabeth's eyes were sun-bright, fixed on the mage's black orbs. Tangwystl very soon nodded, then nodded again, looking more and more surprised.
After a little while Tangwystl sank back into her chair. She shook her head, looked back at Elizabeth, and told the girl how to dissolve the shield. On the last word of her explanation, she started back, as if lightly struck. A moment later, with a wry twist to her full lips, she said that Elizabeth must be tired and she should rest for a while.
"Such a will," the mage said, turning her attention to Denoriel. "I do not believe I have ever met such a will . . . except . . . His."
Denoriel laughed. "I have reason enough to agree with you. I have been attending upon her . . . oh, except for the years I was voyaging . . . ah . . . I can end that pretense. I was sick for over two mortal years and could not leave Underhill while I was healing."
Tangwystl made a sour moue. "Well, tell her not to release spells so quickly."
"Tell me yourself," Elizabeth snapped. "I am not a porcelain poppet or a block of wood. I am sitting right here in front of you. If I have done something wrong, explain, or show me the right way."
"It is no pleasure to work with you, mistress," the dark mage retorted sourly.
Elizabeth's lips parted on what Denoriel expected to be another smart remark and he cleared his throat. Her eyes did not even flicker toward him but what she said was, "Ah, I am sorry, Mistress Tangwystl, because it is a pleasure to work with you. I have never been taught so well or so quickly. I am sorry to have been pert, but I try to be an apt pupil for a clever mistress. If you please, will you tell me or show me how I hurt you?"
The mage smiled, this time softly with closed lips so that her sharpened teeth did not show. "A grateful student, and a sensible one." And she went on to explain how power could be slowly withdrawn rather than simply being cut off so that a spell snapped like a cracked whip. Then she cocked her head at Elizabeth and added, "So you want to be a party to any discussion about you?" She laughed when Elizabeth nodded decisively. "Well then, I must warn you that you will hear some things you will not like. And you must keep any more pert remarks between your teeth; adults do not care for reproofs from babes."
Elizabeth shrugged and sighed. "About myself I rarely hear anything I do like. Thank you for your warning."
Denoriel laughed. "Then you should not listen so close. Eavesdroppers are seldom flattered. But I will tell you that despite your curdled disposition, I love you dearly. I find you enchanting. Are those things not good?"
She held out her hand to him and he took it, kissed it, and held it comfortingly in his.
Tangwystl snorted lightly and said, "I must address my remarks to Lord Denoriel, Elizabeth, because he will understand and remember and will be able to explain to you later if necessary. I cannot take the time for that. So, Lord Denoriel, your charge now has a mind shield that should serve her against most mortal assaults. But that is all she has."
"You mean she has not enough power to cast spells?"
"I do not know the answer to that question. Magically, she is the strangest person I have ever come across. I could sense in her what you mentioned, a well of power, but it is confined . . . I would say by her will, except that when I showed her how to breech the confinement, she could not—so is it her own will that holds the power? I do not know. It was the only thing I showed her that she could not do at once and repeat perfectly later."
After a moment, Denoriel lifted Elizabeth's hand and kissed it. "It may not be enough," he said to Tangwystl. "Oh, it will protect her if she is again threatened with an amulet carrying a damaging spell, but there is a chance—not a great chance but a real one—that she will need to stand against a dark Sidhe enchanter, at least until I can be summoned from wherever I am."
"She cannot hold, not more than a few . . . ah," Tangwystl's dull eyes brightened. "But a few moments would be all that she would need. I will make her an amulet that she need only invoke. Two words. She will be able to hold her shield firm for the time it will take to say two words—I will teach her that. And once that amulet is invoked, even the Magus Majors would have difficulty breaking through."
"That should be enough," he said to Tangwystl, and then, "Elizabeth, that will give you time to call your guards or Blanche. No dark Sidhe of whom I know can touch you when your cross is exposed and even the strongest dark Sidhe will flee before Blanche's necklace or the guards' steel swords. And if the attacker should try to cast enchantments at the guards, that will divert him from trying to attack you, so you can defend yourself physically. Do you understand?"
Elizabeth nodded cheerfully. "I saw what happened to the bad person that looks like you when Blanche threw one of her crosses at him. It just glanced off him, but he let go of me and staggered back as if something really heavy had hit him. I could stick any attacker with my eating knife or my scissors or hit him with an iron candlestick."
"I have a warning for you, however, mistress," Tangwystl said. "I understand that you can see through illusion, that even when Lord Denoriel pretends to have round ears and round pupils in his eyes that you see him as he is."
She nodded again, but wrinkled her nose. "Mostly as he is. I can see a shadow of the round ears but the points go right through it."
"When you invoke the amulet, you will lose that power until the shield is dismissed. The illusion will become real to you. So, before you use the amulet, note carefully who is Sidhe and who is mortal. You would not want to stick a knife into the wrong person or hit a friend with an iron candlestick—especially as you will not be able to explain what you have done or why."
"Oh," Elizabeth said, looking somewhat daunted, but then she perked up again. "Oh, I will find some very good reasons. I am good at finding reasons for things I do."
Denoriel sighed. "Yes, you are. Do not encourage her to make up stories, Mage Tangwystl. She is a past master of the art already. Now tell me what kind of amulet you will need. My sister, Aleneil—"
"No. The amulet will need to be crafted exactly for the purpose," the dark mage said and gestured.
A Gate opened where the window had been behind the mage's chair. It stretched wider and down to the floor. Denoriel rose and took Elizabeth's hand. She looked at the Gate, again with that odd expression. There was no fear now, only a kind of disapproval. At the end of the black tunnel of the Gate, Denoriel could see some dull red lights.
Tangwystl gestured them forward. Denoriel bowed but only signed for her to go first. She shrugged and stepped through the Gate without further hesitation. Denoriel followed, one hand on his sword hilt and the other holding Elizabeth behind him. Tangwystl snorted gently but gave her attention to the creature facing her across a low counter. The light was dim and reddish and the creature clacked a huge claw and hissed at them.
"I need a special amulet, one that will suit this particular child."
"What child? I don't see any child."
The voice was thin and querulous. Two large dark red eyes at the ends of long, flexible feelers peered around. Denoriel drew Elizabeth from behind him to stand at his side.
"I see. That child."
The feelers holding the red eyes drew together and both eyes stared at Elizabeth. Elizabeth stared back, stiff as a rod, thin lips almost disappeared as they closed tight. The claw waved from side to side.
"A mortal child, too. Difficult. Difficult. Very expensive. No warranty." The eyes pulled back almost disappearing under the shadow of the carapace. "And in addition we don't need any magic spells right now. How will you pay?"
"I will pay when you need a magic spell. At that time I will give you the spell and you will give me nothing."
There was a long silence during which Elizabeth looked around, since she was not sure it would be polite to stare at the thing to which Tangwystl was speaking. It looked just like a giant crab and the querulous voice was crabby too; it was taking all Elizabeth's strict lessons in polite behavior to keep her from bursting into giggles.
At least the shop was interesting. There was worked stone everywhere, marble polished so highly that it reflected like a mirror, flowers with thin colored petals that Elizabeth longed to touch because they looked so real, a leafless tree in winter or dead, bone white limbs raised in supplication. And in cases on the walls, incredible jewels: a diamond as big as a wren's egg, a ruby that glowed with sullen fire even in the dim light, golden topaz, cool, cloudy, pale green peridot, clear blue sapphire and those more costly, misty with a shining star.
Elizabeth slipped her hand into Denno's, wondering if she could cozen him into buying something for her. To her surprise, his hand closed hard over hers and the background argument to which Elizabeth had paid little attention suddenly stopped. Everyone looked at her, including the extended red eyes on feelers.
There was a silence, and then Denno said, "No. I will give nothing of Elizabeth's. No hair, no fingernail parings, no clothing, no other possession. If I could, I would stop her breathing so no mist from her lungs would float abroad Underhill. Nothing will be left Underhill when she is gone to draw her back or bespell her. No."
"Wait," Tangwystl said. "They use no magic here. For what do you want her hairs, Crustacani?"
The red eyes left off their concentration on Elizabeth, rose and peered at Denoriel. "Each hair is thick and strong, almost like wire. And it is the color of red gold. It shines to my eyes. We will use it to suspend the pans of a balance delicate enough to weigh single grains of sand."
"You see?" Tangwystl said to Denoriel. "There is no harm in that."
"Until someone comes and offers to buy or trade for the hairs. No."
"No one will even know we have them," the crab-being said testily. "Such work is not done in public. Our balances, our workshops, are not open to any but ourselves."
"Will not know unless you tell them. I will not—" Denno's voice checked suddenly; he looked from Elizabeth to the crab, smiled, and went on, "You say you use no magic. Very well. You can have three hairs cut, not pulled, from Elizabeth's head, but I will cast a spell on them. If magic is done to them or even anywhere near enough for those hairs to be affected, they will return to Elizabeth's head."
A crab cannot shrug. The claw made several little circles in the air. "Magic is nothing to us. We do not use it. That is why Tangwystl must come to us to bespell any amulets that are ordered."
"Very well, but she will not be able to bespell anything near the balance supported by Elizabeth's hair. If the hairs feel magic of any kind, they will disappear." Denoriel set his chin, looking just as stubborn as he claimed Elizabeth was.
And the crab clearly could not have cared less. "Agreed. The amulet to be beautiful, of semiprecious stone, and set so it can be worn as an ornament. The payment to be three long hairs cut from the child's head, bespelled against magic."
The creature scuttled out of the shop so rapidly that Elizabeth jumped and jumped again when it reappeared with a rather small, flat box which it set on the counter and from which it lifted the lid. Within were semiprecious stones. Most were already cut into ovals, rounds, or squares. A few were faceted. Elizabeth's eyes were at once caught by a pair of oval-cut, mottled-green stones almost black in the dim reddish light but holding sparks of bright gold.
"Denno, can I have those?"
"No," the Crustacani said before Denno could respond. "A pair. I do not wish to break up a pair. The bargain was for one stone."
"I will give you another three hairs for the second stone," Elizabeth said, eyes gleaming.
"Don't need another three."
There was a silence; Elizabeth drew a sharp breath. Then she smiled. "Do you like fish?" she asked. She was aware of a choking noise from beside and behind her—Denno strangling laughter; she would strangle him if he spoiled her bargain. "Fish from the mortal world? Real fish?"
The claw clacked. "Fish. We are talking about stones."
"One cannot eat stones, and I am sure you can find many more of them, but fresh fish—or salt if you prefer salt—from the mortal world are not so easy to come by Underhill."
Silence. From just under where the feelers that held the eyes went into the carapace, a little liquid dripped. Elizabeth heard the choking sound again, but she only looked at the red eyes, which were withdrawn into the carapace and then peeked out again.
"How much fish?"
Coughing now sounded beside her but Elizabeth paid no attention. "A keg," she said, and extracted her hand from Denno's to use both hands to show the size. "So big and well packed. Tell me fresh or salt, and Lord Denno will deliver the cask to Tangwystl, who will bring it to you."
"Done. Both gems for three hairs and a keg of fresh fish. When will the fish come?"
Now Elizabeth had to look up at Denno. His eyes looked suffused and he swallowed hard before he spoke, but he managed to say that he would bring the fish himself within two mortal days—it would be necessary for him to buy in the early morning in the fish market if the fish were to be truly fresh—if the Crustacani would tell him the name of his hold.
"The hold is Carcinus Maenas, but it would be best if you came through Tangwystl's Gate. Since we do no magic, we do not welcome visitors."
"Fish!" Tangwystl said, loathing in her voice. "My rooms will smell of fish for days."
"Do you not like fish?" Elizabeth asked innocently. "Properly cooked it is delicious. And properly fresh, it does not smell at all, Master Tangwystl—or no worse than the sea at least."
"It should not be cooked at all," the Crustacani said.
While they were talking Denno had drawn his knife and cut three hairs from Elizabeth's head, which he folded in his hand and whispered over. It seemed to Elizabeth that the hairs actually grew brighter when he held them out to the crab person.
From just above the bottom shell four little bony arms emerged, each tipped with half a dozen jointed, flexible fingers. One arm took the hairs from Denno's hand, another arm uncoiled one. Between them they pulled the hair sharply, recoiled it, and similarly tested the other two. When all were approved, that arm withdrew.
A second and third arm picked up the stones Elizabeth had selected and withdrew with them into the body of the Crustacani. Odd sounds emerged from the creature and the red eyes were closed and withdrawn. Elizabeth went back to examining the stonework and found several little statues that she would like to have, especially if it were to be at no greater cost than kegs of fish. After a time, one of the Crustacani's arms reemerged. The green stones, now set into simple gold bands, each with a loop at the top so the stone could be hung from a chain or a bracelet or hooks for earrings, lay on the table.
Tangwystl picked them up. "We will need to return to my rooms to embed the spells," she said. "Usually I do them here, but I am afraid to be too near the hair."
She turned, and a black spot formed on the outer wall. As it enlarged, Elizabeth said to the Crustacani, "Thank you. You have been very kind to me. If you like the fish, send a message through Master Tangwystl. I will send more for one of the beautiful statues . . . if I am allowed."
The red eyes emerged. Stared. "Thanks taken. Which statues?"
"The elvensteed. The mermaid. The Sidhe."
"If I like the fish . . ."
Elizabeth felt a strong thrust on her back, stumbled, and righted herself by catching at Tangwystl's chair. The mage laid the stones on her table and gestured for Denoriel and Elizabeth to go around the table to their chairs.
"Oh dear," Elizabeth said as she sat down. "Oh! All of that was for nothing. I forgot that Queen Titania said that I could take nothing from Underhill. That it would disappear or turn to dross if I took it with me."
Tangwystl lifted her head but it was Denno who said, "That is quite true, but the stones are not from Underhill, are they? You heard the craftsman, there is no magic there. These are solid and mortal, not of elven-make."
Elizabeth frowned. "And what of the statues I wanted?"
"I . . ." Denoriel hoped he would not soon be so trapped in a maze of lies that he would expose them. "The statues are the same. The statues, you see, are only of common stone, not made by magic but carved by hand—or whatever the Crustacani use. You heard it say it did not use magic. Gold and jewels, as you see about us, they are magic-made. One must go to the Crustacani for real objects, and the more precious they are in your world, the rarer they are in his."
"Too bad." Elizabeth sighed. "I love the necklace that goes with my court dress."
Tangwystl snorted. "Take it then, and see what happens, but do not weep when it becomes a string of acorns." The mage exchanged a glance with Denoriel, who nodded slightly. "Now go. I must work the spells on these amulets and that is no short task, nor an easy one if the amulets must work in an ambiance of cold iron. I will send a messenger to you when I am ready, and Elizabeth must learn when her shields are being attacked and threatening to fail. But she is tired now—" the mage wrinkled her nose and exposed her sharp teeth "—or she should be."
"She must know when to invoke the amulet, yes," Denoriel agreed. "And I can teach her external shields."
"Excellent, for I am not expert in those. Now . . . go."
And they were outside the white building only a few feet from where Miralys was peacefully grazing. Elizabeth stamped her foot in irritation. She was really growing to hate the way one was moved here and there like a chess piece at some other person's whim.
Denno looked at her in surprise, but she knew it was useless to tell him, just as it was useless to tell the French ambassador that his overelaborate bows and flowery speech were annoying rather than impressive. Meanwhile, the elvensteed had lifted his head and come toward them, the double saddle forming on his back as he took the few steps.
Another ridiculous, impossible thing, but Elizabeth had to admit to herself that it was much more comfortable than the pillion pads of what she was coming to think of as the "real" world. Denno mounted and lifted her onto the saddle behind him. A short ride over the perfect lawn and down a flower-bordered lane brought them to the Gate of Avalon where, inured as she had become to marvels, Elizabeth stared and caught her breath.
The interwoven boughs of eight trees wrought of solid silver made a gleaming roof, and when Miralys stepped up onto the low platform his silver hooves rested on a pavement, not of marble, but a mosaic of an eight-pointed star, formed of thousands of pearly seashells, each smaller than the nail of a newborn baby's finger. Four large figures in glowing armor turned as one to look at them and a voice came—seemingly not from any one but from all.
"Denoriel Siencyn Macreth Silverhair we know. What mortal do you carry and by whose permission?"
"The mortal is Lady Elizabeth Tudor, daughter of Henry of England, by permission of Queen Titania."
A moment passed during which Elizabeth again felt an icy chill like the one that had passed over her when Denno had brought her into the palace of Llachar Lle. She could feel Denoriel stiffen, and then the chill was gone and that disembodied voice said, "Pass. She is marked in the Guardians' memories." And they were under the opalescent lace roof of the Gate of Logres.
"Fish," Denno said, as Miralys stepped off the marble platform on which they had arrived. "How in the world did you think of asking if the Crustacani liked fish?"
He twisted around so he could see Elizabeth's face. She was staring at him with a child's scornful surprise at the obtuseness of grown-ups.
"It was a crab, wasn't it?" she asked. "Crabs eat fish. I don't know what kind of fish you have here, but if they are made things, like your servants, perhaps they do not taste as good as real live fish. What else could I offer in a place where pillars are made of chalcedony and necklaces of gold and rubies appear out of thin air?" But then she reached out to clutch at his arm, her face now intense with eagerness. "Never mind that. Will my Da be waiting for us?"
In that moment Denoriel knew that Elizabeth would have to see Harry in the flesh. Unlike Harry himself, nothing could divert Elizabeth from a purpose truly dear to her heart. The boy had been so distracted by the wonder and strangeness of Underhill that he had almost completely forgotten the horror of being chased and almost taken by the Unseleighe Wild Hunt. Aside from her pleasure in the magnificent court dress Aleneil had created for her, Elizabeth seemed more annoyed than enchanted by the miracles Underhill.
"I don't know," he said. "I hope so. But I can promise nothing. You see how it is here," he added, a little sadly, "there are times when one cannot be sure of anything."
Miralys had been making a leisurely way toward the palace, allowing time to admire it in the distance among the patches of graceful trees and flower-starred fields. But then, having sensed the eagerness of his riders, they were suddenly at the portal. Without another word, they dismounted, hurried through the postern beside the great brass doors, passed the great corridor, and arrived at Denoriel's deceptive doorway. Inside, however, no written message lay on the ivory table in his entrance foyer, no air spirit flitted about impatiently, no invisible servant came to whisper an explanation.
Elizabeth ran past Denoriel into the sitting room and ran out again, tears brimming in her eyes. "He is not here."
"No, I see that."
"Did Lady Alana not give him your message?"
"I am sure she delivered the message, but possibly not to Harry himself. I told you, Elizabeth, that he is a young man who lives a busy life."
"Busy? But he would come to see me! I am sure he would come to see me." The tears overflowed her lower lids and streaked her cheeks; for once, she was all child, and a severely disappointed and disheartened one.
"Yes. I am sure he would—if he had got the message."
Denoriel racked his brain trying to remember just what he had said to Aleneil when she went off to convince Kat Champernowne that Elizabeth was safe in her bed resting. And when he remembered, he felt his heart sink. Fool that he was, afraid of reminding Elizabeth of her demand to see Harry, all he had said was that Aleneil should leave a message that Elizabeth was Underhill. He had not reminded her of Mwynwen's jealousy of the child. Which probably meant that Aleneil had given his message to Mwynwen and Harry had never heard of it.
"You sent a message," Elizabeth wailed, "why would he not get it?"
"Possibly because Harry was not at home. It is my fault, love." Denoriel tried to think of excuses that would not leave the child hating Mwynwen for her foolish jealousy. "I knew we would be very busy. I had no idea how long Queen Titania would keep us but I suspected she might send us to a mage to teach you to close off your mind. I didn't want poor Harry to be waiting for Dannae knew how long, so I didn't make the message urgent. And constructs—the servants most Sidhe use—sometimes have poor memories."
That last was a flat lie. Because of her work as a healer, Mwynwen's constructs could not only remember word perfect whatever was said but the speed of one's heartbeat, the way one breathed, the heat of one's body, and probably a host of internal signs of which the person him or herself was unaware.
"Can you send another message?" Elizabeth asked, her expression teetering between hope and defeat.
Fury washed through Denoriel. He could not remember ever having been so angry with Mwynwen. At her age, how could she be so childish, so jealous of a mortal child that she would lie to her lover and inflict so much pain on a little girl? And for Mwynwen's own sake, it was stupid. If Harry found out—and he would—he would not only be bitterly angry but become untrusting and suspicious of her.
"I can do better than that, love," Denoriel said. "We can go to the house where Harry lives and catch him when he comes home or find out where he has gone and follow him."
"Oh, Denno!" she caught him around the waist and buried her face in his clothing. "Oh, thank you. Thank you."
It took no time to summon Miralys and ride across Logres to where Mwynwen's house stood just on the edge of a wood of delicate birch and ash trees. The path to the front door between pastel-colored flowers with sweet but not overpowering scents was obviously wide enough for two elvensteeds abreast. Miralys took them to the door which opened welcomingly as they dismounted.
A gentle-faced girl—except that her skin was quite green and her hair looked very much like trailing willow withies—came down the corridor to meet them, asking anxiously whether either were hurt or ill.
"No, I thank you," Denoriel said. "We have come to see Harry FitzRoy. Is he at home?"
"No, nor Lady Mwynwen either," the girl said.
"Too bad," Denoriel said, feeling Elizabeth's hand steal into his. "But I am a long-time friend of Harry's. I will just go back to his apartment and wait there for him."
"But I do not think they are coming back, not anytime soon," the dryad said. "Lady Ceindrych is here to attend to those who were under Lady Mwynwen's care and to treat any new patients."
"I see." Denoriel barely kept himself from cursing the poor dryad, who sensed his anger and shrank into herself (but like her tree, which bent to every blast of wind, stood still firmly rooted). "May I speak to Lady Ceindrych then?"
"Yes, of course. Come, please."
She led them to the end of the corridor and opened the door there, standing aside to let them enter. The room was not very large, only of a comfortable size, and all in soft, slightly glowing colors, one little gathering of chairs around a low table in faded golds and soft reds, warm and caressing; another group in gentle blues and greens touched with silver, cool and refreshing. At the back was a window that seemed to look out on the lovely garden in the front of the house, which was impossible, since this room was at the back. From a pair of chairs rose a woman with large blue eyes and silver hair pulled back from her face with a band of blue sapphires.
"Lady Ceindrych." Denoriel bowed and Elizabeth, taking the cue, made a respectful but not exaggerated curtsey.
"So this is the fearsome Lady Elizabeth," the old healer said, smiling at Elizabeth.
"Fearsome?" Elizabeth repeated, and uttered a sob. "Oh you cannot mean that my Da ran away from me!"
"Oh no, child, no," Ceindrych murmured, going down on her knees and holding out her arms. "It was not Lord Harry who fled." Elizabeth went into those open arms and Ceindrych continued comfortingly, "I do not think he had the faintest idea why that silly Mwynwen suddenly decided she needed a rest and freedom from the demands of patients."
"No, I am quite sure he did not," Denoriel said. "My sister, because of my stupidity, doubtless gave Mwynwen the message really meant for Harry. She simply did not tell him and pretended she needed to go away."
"Yes," Ceindrych agreed, releasing Elizabeth as the child straightened up. "He was totally unaware. When he came to ask me to care for her patients and anyone else who came for help, he also asked me if I thought it was his continuing sickness that was draining her and if there was another healer who could keep him healthy and so spare her."
Denoriel could barely contain his fury when Elizabeth's tear-stained and tragic face was lifted from Ceindrych's bosom. "She should be careful what she says," he snarled, "or Harry will refuse treatment from her to save her and kill himself."
"Oh, my poor Da," Elizabeth sobbed. "He was always too good, never caring enough for himself."
"And that is the Mother's pure truth," Denoriel said, pulling Elizabeth against himself and hugging her.
"Well, you are both silly as day-old chicks," Ceindrych said, shaking her head. "He is the light in Mwynwen's life and I assure you she will not allow him to harm himself nor anyone else to harm him." Then she rose from her knees and sighed. "You might as well take Elizabeth home, Denoriel. There is no sense in waiting here or in your home for him to return. I think what Mwynwen is doing is stupid. I told her so, but she would not listen and I am quite sure she will not bring Lord Harry back to Logres until Elizabeth is gone."
"I will go after her and see that Harry learns—"
"Where will you go, silly boy? Do you think she told me or anyone else where she was going so you could pick it out of our heads? To speak the truth, I do not believe she has allowed herself to think about a destination."
Denoriel sighed defeat, but Elizabeth took his hand and said to Ceindrych, "But my Da—the one you call Lord Harry—he is alive and well? You saw him with your own eyes?"
The healer put a gentle hand beneath Elizabeth's chin, and tilted her face so that she could look straight into the Sidhe's eyes. "Yes, indeed I did, and I spoke to him also. I promise you he was in the best of health, only worried about his . . . his lady. Now go back to Llachar Lle with Denoriel and don't worry about your Da anymore." Then she smiled. "Mwynwen will not always be able to keep him from you, and the day you and he meet, she might realize how foolish she has been."
Elizabeth tightened her grip on Denno's hand, expecting to next see the portal of Llachar Lle or some room in Denno's apartment, but nothing happened. Denno said something she didn't catch to Lady Ceindrych, then turned around and went out the door in the most ordinary way. They went down the corridor and out the front door where Miralys was waiting and then rode, just as if Miralys was her own, ordinary horse, to the palace where Denno helped her down from the saddle and they went inside.
"I'm sorry, love," he said after shepherding her into the dining room and gesturing to the servants to bring food and drink. "I was stupid, and you are being punished for my stupidity."
"But why?" she asked. "Why does this lady hate me so much? What have I done? Can I somehow amend it?"
Denno patted her hand. "She doesn't hate you, love," he said, smiling. "She likes all children, but . . . but you frighten her because Harry loves you so dearly. It is what Lady Ceindrych said about protecting Harry from being hurt. She is afraid that if Harry sees you, he will long for you so much that he will want to go back to the mortal world and he cannot live in the mortal world. His sickness would return and kill him. As long as he is Underhill, he will remain strong and well, but Overhill will kill him."
"Then how could she believe I would try to make him come to me where he would be hurt? I am, it is true, a child, but not so spoiled or silly as that!" She looked at the plate of cheese and cold meats that had settled gently in front of her and the tall glass of milk.
"I know that, and you know that, but Mwynwen—" he shrugged. How to explain to a child of eight that a woman, mortal or Sidhe, is not always sure of the steadfastness of her lover's heart? "Eat something, love. You will feel better when your belly is not so empty."
"At least I know now that you told me the truth when you said my Da was alive and well. I no longer feel that the last person of my own blood that loves me is gone." Then she looked at Denno and tears again streaked her cheeks. "But am I never to see my Da again, never touch his hand or have him hug me?"
"Won't my hugs do?" Denno asked, smiling.
Before she thought, Elizabeth shook her head vehemently.
Denno's smile disappeared and he removed his hand from hers. "I'm sorry, Lady Elizabeth. I thought you liked me."
Elizabeth grabbed for his hand and caught it. "Don't be a silly," she said. "Of course I like you. But not that way. Not the way I love my Da. You—you're a man not of my blood, a person different from me in all ways. Yes, you're a person I want to be with, I like to talk with you . . . but my Da, to me he's not separate. He's like a part of me but outside of me." She hesitated and her eyes were almost black with fear and sorrow. "He's a place to be when everything else is gone."
Denoriel sat staring at her, grieved at her grief and fear but strangely lighthearted at the difference she drew between her feeling for Harry and for himself. He was not absolutely certain why the fact that she did not include him in the "blood-relation" feeling made him so happy, but he put the problem aside, knowing it was not safe to look too closely at it. He lifted her hand and kissed it, then put it on her fork.
"As long as you enjoy my company, I am content to leave his own special place to Harry. Now eat up, love, and then off to bed with you. Tomorrow will be a hard day. Tangwystl will show you how to defend your shield and know when it is failing so you must invoke the amulet. It will be hard work and more hard work when I teach you physical shielding."
"I am not afraid of hard work," Elizabeth said, smiling. "But when it is done, you will take me home?"
Relief and disappointment warred in Denoriel. Elizabeth would never love and long for Underhill as Harry had. "Yes," he said, "I will take you home to the mortal world."